


You Have To Know Better

by Rebekah231



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebekah231/pseuds/Rebekah231
Summary: The curiosity was deeply overwhelming; too tempting not to taste.Dick Grayson, the adopted son of successful surgeon, Bruce Wayne, remains in a tortuous relationship with his guardian.  Bruce is a cold, formidable man, leaving Dick feeling unconnected and neglected.One day, Dick decides to write pseudo-love letters in an attempt to drop his guardian's hardened ruse.





	1. Day 1

It was no use. He knew he failed.

Dick's test was laid perfectly on his desk as Ms. White evaded his gaze. She strode elegantly until she disappeared into the back of the room.

Dick quickly turned over his test, only to be met with the most devastating number:

65

He made an audible gasp before flipping the paper over. Bruce was going to kill him.

He was going to be angry and disappointed and disgusted. Dick held his breath before asking to go to the restroom.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grayson. You know the rules, no restroom break before the 10 minute bell."

Dick could already feel tears prick his eyes before whispering, "Okay, Ms. White."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

School was over.

A slick black car pulled into the parking lot with ease; waiting for him.

This was a surprise since Alfred usually picked Dick up and dropped him off everyday.

But this was Bruce himself.

Dick felt like throwing up. In fact, he wouldn't mind it, if it meant avoiding the conversation that was about to happen.

Dick's hand was already opening the car door before he could stop, and there he sat in the perfectly neat car of his adopted "father."

"Seat belt," was all that was uttered. Immediately, Dick followed the command and the car began moving swiftly.

"How was your day?" Bruce asked, voice devoid of any particular emotion.

"It was fine." Dick replied. Bruce wore sunglasses that covered his usual piercing blue eyes. His raven hair, though, was unrestricted and blew in the wind of the convertible. Admittedly, he looked less intimidating this way.

"That's good, Dick." Bruce cooed. "How was your test today?"

Dick's breathing hitched before forcing a nonchalant smile. "It was fine."

"Everything seems to be "fine" with you today," Bruce uncharacteristically teased; adding to Dick's nausea.

"What did you make?"

Dick didn't answer. Bruce asked again before turning his head towards him, the first time since Dick got in the car.

"65." Might as well remove the band-aid.

Bruce replied with a low hum. The disappointment was already apparent.

"I'm so sorry, Bruce! I know you already warned me about wasting my time playing video games and watching TV, but I swear this time I actually studied." The words flowed without restraint in a pathetic plea for forgiveness.

The car was already parked in front of the mansion.

"No playing video games after 5 pm and I'm hiring a tutor for you." Dick blinked.

"T-That's it?" Dick asked. Bruce nodded, then added "you're also joining gymnastics like I wanted."

Dick sighed. He hasn't been athletic since his early days. Bruce spending the greater portion of his high school experience forcing him to try different sports made him hate this even more.

"Okay." Dick responded.

"Okay - what?" Bruce removed his sunglasses.

"Okay, sir. " Dick breathed out, dejected.

"Good boy, now get ready for supper," Bruce hummed. "Alfred's making salmon topped with buttered risotto, you're favorite."

Dick frowned, it wasn't his favorite though.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still alive." Dick laughed, tightening the hold on his phone.

"Good. I was so worried about you." Barbara exclaimed. "I know your dad is a real hard-ass."

Dick winced then furrowed his brows. "He's not my dad. My real father is dead and I don't need any replacement."

There was a silence before Barbara's voice echoed a low sorry.

"I-It's just you guys look so similar! It's honestly crazy. I know it's a sore subject, though, so I apologize."

Dick smiled. "It's no problem. I've been hearing that ever since I got adopted by him. I guess I'm still bitter about earlier today and lashed out at you."

"I totally understand." Barbara replied. Dick hopped onto his bed before sighing.

"I just wish I knew him. The real him." Dick closed his eyes. "I've been with him ever since I was 10 years old and yet, he's an enigma."

Barbara gasped. "I have an idea!"

"In my sociology class, this girl conducted an experiment on her crush. She wrote anonymous letters to him and he responded. Slowly, they began to get to know one another and BOOM, they're dating now!"

Dick sat up in his bed. "Barbara, I don't want to date Bruce." She laughed on the other end.

"No silly! Write anonymous letters, beckoning him to communicate with you. If he's reserved, he should be more relaxed through letter exchange. Even try pretending to be this super hot lady or something!"

Dick glanced at the notebook on his desk before humming.

"Barbara, you're crazy."


	2. Day 2

Dick found himself unable to sleep.

The sheer thought of him writing to Bruce was laughable. He doesn’t know why Barbara even suggested that.

Bruce notices every detail - from Dick’s handwriting to the exact paper used for the writing.

The image of Bruce finding out the letter was from him makes him sweat.

Before Dick can further drown in his thoughts, there’s a harsh knock on the door.

He glanced at the clock then gasped:

6:25 am

It was already time for school and he wasted precious sleep hours obsessing over something that hadn’t happened yet. Great.

“Time to get up, Master Richard.” Another loud knock.

Dick groaned then picked himself up.

———————————————————————

No Bruce for breakfast. No surprise.

He is usually out of here by 4:30 am.

“Do you think Bruce will allow me to go over to Barbara’s apartment this weekend?” Dick asked.

Alfred stopped pouring juice for a minute then continued.

“I think you already know the answer, Master Dick.”

God, he hated that phrase. 

Dick clenched his fists before slamming his head down.

“Bruce never lets me visit Roy in California! He never lets me visit Barbara! He never lets me visit anybody!” Dick cried out.

A gentle hand was placed on Dick’s shoulder, making him flinch; physical contact was way too unfamiliar.

Was he crying? He couldn’t tell since his eyes were glued on his lap.

“Master Dick, I can’t begin to tell you how much I sympathize with you.” Alfred started.

“Bruce is a very singular character, a very damaged character.” Alfred took a quick breath before continuing.

“I remember the early years. He'd always skip out on his therapy sessions because he felt like ‘he didn’t need them.’ It broke my heart, but at the same time I was just an ‘employee,’ how could I dictate what was right for him? Of course now I regret it, but I played my part in his damage."

Dick looked up, completely shocked.

He's never heard Alfred open up like this. It made him want to ask Alfred a million questions, but he knew the time would never be right. 

Alfred cleared his voice, before saying, "Enough of the dramatics, hurry and eat so we can get you to school. "

\----------------------------------------

School was boring. Nothing new.

Dick couldn’t help but feel more and more like a ghost; constantly drifting from place to place. Empty smiles as he passed his friends in the hallway. Eyes following the different cars as he watched from the classroom window. 

He counted 3 white cars, 12 black cars and 7 red cars today. 

Anything better than what was being taught in Mr. Felk’s Geometry class. 

He couldn't wait to get home and sleep without interruption, but the vibrating in his pocket ruined his wishful thinking.

A text message from Barbara:

"Dude, can you please pick up my calls??"

Dick grimaced before glancing at the six missed calls from her.

A quick text was all he really felt like sending.

"Can't talk now, Babs. I have a lot of homework."

The guilt would rack him later, but he really wasn't feeling up to whatever she had planned. The combination of two hours of sleep, crying at breakfast and feuding with Bruce made him irritable.

He hated being this pathetic. This fragile. This emotional.

Bruce had always pushed him to get a hold of his emotions. It wasn't "manly" to cry when being yelled out. It wasn't "manly" to storm away when upset.   
It wasn't "manly" to not follow direct orders when given.

Dick huffed out a low breath before climbing the stairs to his room. This won't matter anymore.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed Bruce's office door unexpectedly left ajar. The thought he was home occurred in Dick's mind, but it didn't seem right.

"You don't want a snack, Master Dick?"

Alfred's voice startles him a bit, but then he realizes it came from downstairs.

"No, thank you," Dick replied. He knew Alfred most likely didn't hear him, but his eyes were too focused on the cracked door.

Immediately, he tosses his backpack down and reaches to push open the door.

 

This place reeks of a certain familiarity. 

Dick has been in here before, sometimes when he was in trouble, other times when he needed help with school work. 

This place has always been sort of mystery. It was locked most of the times, but Dick couldn’t understand why. 

In retrospect, it makes sense why Bruce would want to protect his office, but why go through all that trouble? 

Maybe he hid something important, maybe something he could use to write the letter. 

Dick’s feet promptly took him to Bruce’s office chair, where he placed his back into each crease. 

The dark leather chair was cool at first, but then warmed to his body. In a way, it was comforting. He was sitting in Bruce’s favorite chair, where he spent long hours paying bills, reviewing work and doing other things Dick couldn’t think of. 

Weirdly enough, it even smelled like him in here. Sandalwood, heavy cologne, eucalyptus.

An odd arrangement, but it felt like home. 

Dick’s eye lingered on the office walls before raising his eyebrows. He hadn’t noticed it before, but all of his certificates were splayed across the the wall amidst the somber paintings. 

“Principal’s Award.” Fourth grade. 

“A/B Honor Roll.” Seventh grade. 

Greatest Achievement Award.” Tenth grade. 

And the list continued. 

He was absolutely taken aback by the fact Bruce kept each and every award, no matter how small or large. 

His heart was beating rapidly. How did he not notice? It almost felt like Bruce was genuinely proud of him. 

Dick bit his lip to keep himself from smiling and reminded himself why he was here to begin with. 

He cleared his head and began investigating.

Dick first checked if any of the cabinets in Bruce’s office were open and, luckily, one was. He pried it open and reached inside. 

The only folder inside was labeled “ DG.” 

Naturally, Dick decided to read that folder.

His shoulders tensed. 

Many police reports. A lot of pictures of him crying. A lot of pictures of his parents'... mangled corpses.

Dick felt sick. 

There were autopsy photos. So explicit and disturbing. His mother’s brain hanging from her exposed skull. His dad’s body, an abnormal bluish color and neck contorted in an odd position. 

He quickly passed through the numerous images of them and passed through newspaper clippings also.

He stopped on a picture of himself smiling. He doesn't remember taking this picture.

There's another picture of him stretching; his legs flawlessly spread in a line.

One picture of him on his back with a solemn expression. Why doesn't he remember these pictures? Where did Bruce get these pictures?

It was as if he was looking at someone who had his likeness, who had his face, but simply wasn’t him. 

Dick’s stomach churned and he closed the folder with a deep exhale. He’s seen enough. 

He stood up and did a quick scan across some of Bruce’s books. 

The maple colored bookcase held some of the oldest books he’s ever seen, and he’s explored the main library downstairs numerous times. 

One book was crystallized with pieces of the edges flaking off. 

There were classics in here: Macbeth, Romeo & Juliet, War and Peace, Moby Dick.

But, there were also books he didn’t quite recognize like “Lolita” and “Kama Sutra.” 

Curious, Dick quickly opened the latter book and viewed the various images.

The illustrations captured people in various positions. 

Kissing. Touching. Inside each other. 

Immediately, Dick’s head moved in a swift motion, making sure no one was coming. He found the images a bit...erotic. 

His neck burned as he slammed the pages shut. He wasn’t supposed to look at stuff like that. 

The fact Bruce looked at these types of books created a weird sensation in his stomach. He didn’t even know he had a...sexuality. 

No woman or man, for that matter, entered the manor. 

Subconsciously, Dick’s eyes searched for any books “similar” to the one he saw. Nothing really came up, except for some scientific studies on sexuality and anatomy. 

Dick dragged his feet back to the office chair before sitting. How was he going to write this stupid letter without being creepy or weird? 

A groan escaped his lips before putting his head down. How was he going to do it? 

Maybe Barbara was just joking. 

-———————

A sheer light beam burns into his face. Dick grimaces. 

He sits up, neck tight and cheek swollen. The hallway light along with menacing footsteps makes Dick freeze. 

An ambiguous dark figure freezes along with him before creeping foreword. 

Immediately, the same burning that woke him up hits his eyes again. Bruce’s face is full view as he stands with his hand on the light switch. 

Initially, he looks confused, but that changes quickly. “Why are you in my office?” 

On instinct, Dick’s body stretches and he yawns. Trying to act nonchalant, he asks “What time is it? Did I miss dinner?”

Bruce frowns then sits his briefcase down. He’s still in his scrubs. 

It’s been awhile since he’s seen him in his full doctor gear. He’d laugh if he wasn’t terrified. His perfect black slick hair shined while the lime colored uniform lessened the intensity in his face. 

“That’s not what I asked, boy. Why are you in my office?” He repeats more raspy than before. 

Dick stands up and tries his best to confidently walk towards Bruce. “I-I needed to find a book for history,” he answers. 

Of course his voice weakens as he talks. 

Bruce still isn’t convinced as his arms remain planted across his chest. He’s now staring at Dick. 

Each defined wrinkle is now perfectly visible. The bags are apparent too. 

Bruce leans down way too close to Dick’s face before clasping his fingers roughly around Dick’s chin. 

“You will NEVER enter my office without permission. Open or not.” Bruce’s icy fingers tightened their grip. 

“Y-Yes, sir.” Dick whimpered out. Bruce always knew how to emasculate him. 

“Good boy. Now go eat your dinner. Alfred was worried you ran off to the city again.” 

Bruce moves past Dick, fully entering his office. It was Dick’s cue to leave. 

At least he knew what he’d be writing now.   
———————————————————————————————

Dear Mr. Bruce Wayne, 

For the past couple of months I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I know, I know. That sounds pretty creepy, but I want to assure you it’s not! I’m a young medical student who plans to become a surgeon just like you. You’ve inspired me more than you’ll ever know. The type of work you’ve done is heroism in a different form and I plan to keep up with all your achievements. I would love if we kept a correspondence. What do you think? ♥ (My P.O. Box will be available for you and you only)

 

-Josephine Tyler 

 

Dick dropped his pen. This seems like a good start.


End file.
